


Fine Milk Chocolate Shell With Milky White Lining Containing Toy – Mainly In Kit Form

by levendis



Series: Prompt Fics [52]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alien Biology, F/M, Food Porn, Metamorphosis, Sex and Chocolate, Shame, Shilling for Big Chocolate, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-05-18 08:09:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5910739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/levendis/pseuds/levendis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clara experiences one of the many hazards of going native.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fine Milk Chocolate Shell With Milky White Lining Containing Toy – Mainly In Kit Form

**Author's Note:**

> for craftysquidz, who requested: Kinder Egg AU

Clara should know enough by now to not eat whatever is given to her. Even if it’s the polite thing to do, even if it looks delicious. There’s a whole multiverse filled with toxins and hallucinogens and things that, at best, give her digestive system some difficulty. She’s been through the gauntlet, she should know better than this.

She doesn’t, obviously. Even as the Doctor looks at her with increasingly furrowed brows, she accepts the gift of nearly-tastes-like-chocolate from the grateful natives, and eats it with all the theatrical aplomb of the graceful hero.

“We’re gonna need to have a talk,” he yells, as they run away from the explosion. (Time-Space Adventurer pro-tip: make sure you’ve saved the _whole_ day before celebrating.)

They don’t have a talk. Things keep happening - it’s easy to forget stuff, especially confusingly Serious stuff, when there’s always something new on the horizon. Besides, talking is boring. So they run. And if she feels a bit…off, it’s easy to ignore. Which, again, it’s easy to ignore the warning signs when there’s so much there to distract you.

It’s a few days after the planet always experiencing a sunset, or sunrise, or one of those - bright colors and long shadows, the sky stretching pink and orange behind them as they kiss. Because what’s the sense of being time-and-space adventurers/lovers if they can’t make out in front of dramatic backdrops? Anyway. After that. She’d call it a hangover, if it didn’t feel worse and last longer than any hangover she’d had previously; a headache and a stomach-ache and an exhaustion. Like when they’d hit up the All-You-Can-Eat Buffet at the end of the universe, but worse. 

Like there was something sort of. In there. Inside of her. Growing. Foreign and frightening and - shit, was she pregnant?

 

“No mini-Claras,” the Doctor announced, waving a scanner over her. “No parasites. You’re mostly fine.”

“Mostly?”

“Ah. Well.” He grinned, ish. Lopsided and apologetic and with a barely-concealed glee that he probably felt bad about, but not so bad he didn’t stop feeling it in the first place. “Your genetic makeup has, uh. Changed, a bit.”

Clara made a ‘go on’ motion. Hurry up, c’mon, stop waffling.

“You’re - you’re about ten percent chocolate now? Approximately? And you’re carrying a - a prize.”

 

And that’s the story of how Clara Oswald, school teacher and UNIT adviser and time-space adventurer, became a Kinder Surprise. 

The Doctor had explained in the most clinical of possible language, and then again in metaphorical, flowery language - the literal vessel that her body was now, the gift the sunset/sunrise people had bestowed upon her - but this, this isn’t clinical or poetic or anything other than base and crass. Her legs spread wide and the Doctor going spelunking, armed with a flashlight that should not feel as good as it does.

“Yeah,” he says. “Wow.” His voice muffled against her cunt. 

She squirms, the pressure - and the other pressure - becoming unbearable. “Just get it out,” she says, teeth clenched.

So he does. Tongue-first, fingers following, flashlight abandoned by her thighs. She feels, she feels - fuck, what does she feel. Nice, as per usual when he’s eating her out, but something else as well. An easing, not what she imagines birth would be like (with the pain and the screaming and the all of that) but instead of sort of - melting. A relaxation. She melts, and empties whatever it was out, and yanks his hair half off of his head as she comes. 

He comes up with a shit-eating grin on a brown-smeared mouth and for a second she’s terrified she just pooped on his face - there’s intimacy and then there’s _intimacy_ \- but her fears are assuaged when he licks his lips and says, “Milk chocolate, not the best but it’s not bad. And look! A temporary tattoo!”

He waves the piece of paper in her face and then licks that too, pressing it onto her arm just below the elbow. They wait for a few seconds, breaths held, then he peels it off. It’s Superman, in flight. She stares at it. He stares at her.

“That was a thing that happened,” she says, flexing her arm muscles. Superman flexing back. _Up up and away._

“Yep.” He’s looking at her like he wants to go back in for seconds.

“I’m gonna get a space-yeast infection now.”

His face goes mournful, then resolute, then some odd mix of reassuring and excited. “I’ll make you an appointment. I know this woman - five heads, six arms, brutal poker player - she’ll fix you up. Everything is gonna be fine, don’t worry.”

She lies back, trying to ignore the feeling of melted milk chocolate leaking out of her nether regions. And the feeling of him dipping his finger into her, and then sucking that finger, and really just - just ignore everything that is happening, all of it, forever. File it under Too Weird To Think About, bury the folder, burn the whole filing cabinet. Probably. Eventually, later. Maybe she’ll save the face that he makes when he discovers there’s also a Lego minifig inside her.

(“Batman!” he says excitedly, as he unearths it. And then, in a dramatic Batman-voice: “Batman. The dark knight.” He waves the Lego’s arms at her. “I am the Bat-Man, cleaning up these filthy streets from - yeah, I’ll shut up now.”)


End file.
